Ch. 2- Attempted Manners
Cold, hazel eyes shot open with a start, still feeling but not remembering the visions that had passed through her subconsciousness while she was out. She had finally managed to get comfortable enough that the crew members weren't going to assault her in her sleep, and had fallen into unconsciousness. It had only taken her two days.
In those two tense days, she had gone up and met with the crew and captain, against the doctor's orders, of course. Her back and side had flared up in an intense pain immediately once she had pushed herself off the table she was operated on and had nearly collapsed trying to support herself. Pushing through the stabbing in her side and the intense headache that permeated in her skull, she managed to gather herself together enough to reach the deck. Feeling the need to thank the crew for saving her life, she went looking for either Dr. Washburn or Dr. Jones, the only English speakers she knew about, to translate. She passed by the few crew members on deck, heading to the back cabin, which she knew where she would find one of the two men; it was where the visitors were placed, although she didn't know how she knew that. She was able to catch a piece of the conversation from the men.
"I wish I could say the same, my friend! I haven't gone the time for a wife, with me being on the sea with you lot." one of the crewmen spoke boisterously. She understood him perfectly, as easily as if he were speaking English. But he wasn't. The conversation was in fluent Italian, roughed up a bit with what she supposed as a local accent. Slightly shocked, but all the while intrigued, she decided to test herself. Stumbling toward the small group, she jokingly replied, "Then I guess you'd be out of practice in the company of women, I suppose." The men jumped a bit, having not noticed her fumble her way up. She continued on, "Oblivious lot, you are. That may get you killed some day." The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them, taking her and the others by surprise. They glanced at her, not believing that this was the body they pulled out of the water the night before. They kept looking at her in disbelief and shock, which in turn made her uncomfortable under their gaze. "What the cazzo are you doing up?!" The voice came from behind her, in a mix of English and Italian. Unconsciously straightening up, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet to the aggressiveness of the voice, she turned around and saw the old doctor from the last night sticking his head out of a doorway, anger clearly written on his face.
Stepping out, he stalked towards her. "The last thing a person who was shot twice in the back, beaten, and nearly drowned should be walking around! I want you back in bed!" Her lips tightened in anger. She was an adult and should not be told what to do! Even if that man was her newly-found doctor! Gearing up to retort, she stared at him in a blank look, then her eyes wandered down. There was a thin, angry, red line zipping across his neck, obviously irritated by the makeshift bandage of a towel in his hand. A flash of guilt passed through her, making her tighten up even more as she loosened her gaze at the man. Her mouth slowly opened to finally respond after the gap of silence from his pissed off attitude. But before she could say anything, he noticed her slip of emotion coming through, obviously extracted from the shallow but sharp cut on his neck. "Nevermind that! I want to talk to you. Figure out how you got stranded in the middle of the water." He motioned her to follow him back inside. As she started moving, the largest sailor next to her reached out and took a firm hold of her right elbow, probably to question if she was feeling alright. Her mind reacted on autopilot. In less than a second, her right leg had lashed out as hard as it could, striking the large man in the stomach. He let go, all her balance on her left leg, causing her to pitch forward. Automatically, she tucked her shoulder in to roll, pushing her right shoulder into the ground, right where the entry wound of a bullet was! Exploding in pain, she slumped down on the deck, breathing heavily and fast. A small cry was pulled from her lips.
Dr. Washburn was there beside her in even less time than it took to happen, looking down at her as if she was a small, fragile doll that was just dropped. He thought the analogy fit well. Lightly gripping the front of her shoulders, he kept her from moving anymore. "You're alright," he muttered sarcastically, "Just some major bruising and a hole in you, you know." He gently picked her up with the help of Marcus Jones, who had seen the commotion and ran over. He felt a small sense of guilt not being able to assist the doctor more the previous night, stuck to just fetching coffee and damp towels. Looking down at her frail form, she reminded him of his little sister, who once fell from a tree and broke her arm, still too stubborn to ask for help. Working together, they were able to carry the unknown woman to a bunk, setting her down on a mattress. She seemed to finally realize where she was and what had happened.
"That sucked." she pronounced with a heavy sign once the majority of the agony she called a bullet wound went away. "I don't know," Marcus said cheekily, "your first meet with the crew went pretty well, all things considered." She and Washburn just glanced at him, not in the mood for his wit. The doctor looked back at her and lightly touched her forehead with the back of his hand. "Marcus, will you please go grab a cold washcloth. She's burning up." Now that he mentioned it, she was hit with a sudden burning feeling throughout her body, with pulses of a dull ache at her side and shoulder, in sync with the pumping of her blood flowing through her. Her dark hair, now slightly frizzy from the humidity, swept across her face, as if trying to hide the lighter tone of bruising and cuts. A look of concern passed from his face to a look of, dare she say, curiosity. It sent a slight tingling down her spine, guessing what would come next. She was right. "You are going to have to answer a lot of questions, donna." he said, slipping back into italian. She slumped down onto the bed. And this was only day one.